


south by

by sharkfish



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Gender politics, M/M, Non-Traditional Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Omega Castiel (Supernatural), Omega Dean, Sharing a Bed, Trans Castiel (Supernatural), Trans Omega, Transsecondary character, gender stuff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-16
Updated: 2021-03-16
Packaged: 2021-03-25 04:40:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,367
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30083598
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sharkfish/pseuds/sharkfish
Summary: “We have one king ready for you through Saturday night,” the beta says, starting to pull out keycards for them.“Wait,” Dean says. “There’s supposed to be two rooms.”She checks the computer again, frowning. “I’m sorry, sir, but there’s only one reservation here.”
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester
Comments: 34
Kudos: 235
Collections: Trans Bingo 2021





	south by

**Author's Note:**

> thanks to oriana. cheerleading has been much needed <3
> 
> written for [transbingo](https://transbingo.tumblr.com/) square "only one bed"

Dean is nervous — always is for this sort of thing — but he can tell that Cas is _more_ nervous, so he’s trying to play it cool. “It’s not a big deal,” Dean’s saying as they walk into the hotel, blissfully cool in comparison to the heat outside. “People ask questions and we answer. All you gotta know is your life.” Pause. “Though maybe don’t name that last company you worked for since you don’t have a lot of nice stuff to say.” 

Cas snorts and adjusts his backpack on his shoulder. “Getting sued is the last thing I need.” They stand in line for the front desk in silence for a moment, and then Cas says, “This is easy for you. You know how to talk to people.” 

“You think you don’t?” 

“You’re fearless. And I’m — I’m me.” 

Dean bumps their shoulders together. “Shut up, dude. You’re awesome.” 

Cas looks startled, but they reach the front desk before he can respond. “Hey,” Dean says, flashing a smile to the redheaded beta behind the counter. “We’re with 42Star. A couple of rooms for Winchester and Novak.” 

“We have one king ready for you through Saturday night,” the beta says, starting to pull out keycards for them. 

“Wait,” Dean says. “There’s supposed to be two rooms.” 

She checks the computer again, frowning. “I’m sorry, sir, but there’s only one reservation here.” 

“We’ll need to add a second room,” Cas says, pulling out his wallet.

“I’m sorry, sir, we’re booked. I can check with the other locations nearby, but considering the festival...” 

Cas takes a shallow breath and Dean squeezes his bicep. Dean’s heart pounds as he says, “We can make it work. I’ll take the couch or something.” 

“Ok,” Cas says, staring down at the counter. 

Cas is silent in the elevator and the walk down an endless hallway to their room. He takes three tries to get the door open, and then they’re walking into a nice little suite with a king bed taking up half the room. There’s a chair but no couch. 

“Oh,” Cas says, his eyes catching on it. “I can take the floor.” 

“Is there a reason we can’t share?” Dean says, though he knows very well there is one: he’ll lay awake aching to touch all night. His crush on Cas is so big Charlie doesn’t even tease him about it anymore. “Afraid to catch the queer?” 

Cas rolls his eyes and says, “I’m certain I’ve already got a chronic case.” 

“You’ve been holding out on me,” Dean says, grinning. 

“Perhaps you haven’t been paying attention.” 

“I’ve paid plenty of attention,” Dean says without meaning to. His face goes hot but Cas doesn’t seem to notice, peering out the window at the Hill Country sprawling underneath them. 

“The bed is rather big,” Cas says, though he’s frowning. “You’re right. It’ll be fine.” 

“Cool. Wanna grab some dinner?” 

Cas relaxes by the time their food arrives, back to his usual quiet smiles and dry jokes and complete obliviousness to Dean’s attempts at flirting. Which is probably for the best, because Dean is clumsy and stupid around good-looking men, even more so with Cas, who is so gorgeous it hurts. Dean is desperate to know what his scent is like underneath the heavy spray of blockers he covers himself in. Dean is a creep because he thinks he might get to find out when they settle in for bed. 

They spend awhile wandering downtown, walking through the state Capitol grounds, peeking in to little shops and picking up a couple of souvenirs. Dean buys a few shot glasses for his collection and Cas keeps smiling at the art he found of the bat colony that lives under the main street bridge. Dean teases him about it but doesn’t mean it. 

Cas starts to get tense again as they head back to the hotel with aching feet and sun-pink cheeks. Dean doesn’t ask, even as Cas’s jaw clenches on the elevator ride up to their hotel room. 

“Mind if I grab a shower?” Dean asks. 

“Of course not,” Cas says, giving him a tight smile. Dean smiles back, hoping it looks a little easier. 

The water pressure is so-so and Dean scrubs off the day quickly, suddenly exhausted in the way only air travel makes him. He didn’t mention to Cas how much he hates planes, but Cas kept giving him reassuring smiles and attempted to distract him with blasphemous opinions about sci-fi, so it must have been pretty obvious. As obvious as Cas’s discomfort is now, Dean figures. 

When Dean comes out of the bathroom in a pair of sweats and worn-soft t-shirt, hair still damp, Cas is sitting awkwardly on the edge of the bed. His nostrils flare to take in Dean’s scent, then he blushes and looks away. 

“Sorry,” Dean says, though he’s not sure why. “Guess we’ve never been around each other without blockers.” 

“That’s true,” Cas says. His hand twitches, scratching at nothing on the thigh of his jeans. “I — need to tell you something.” 

Dean sits on the other side of the bed against the headboard. “Hit me.” 

Cas looks at him, and then away. “I’m transsecondary.” 

“Ok,” Dean says.

“I understand if you’d prefer I find somewhere else to stay. I should have told you before.” 

“Is this what you’ve been weird about all day? You really think I care?” 

“I know you feel strongly about alphas invading omega spaces, and —” 

“Hold up. Are you an omega or not?” 

Cas gives him an unreadable look. “I am.” 

“Then you’re not invading anything.” Dean offers a smile. “And you didn’t have to tell me.” 

“I haven’t started O yet. You would have known once the blockers wash off.” 

“Ah,” Dean says. “Well, point stands. It doesn’t matter to me.” 

Cas gives him a weak half-smile. “Thank you.” 

Dean nudges Cas’s hip with his foot. “I guess I’m still the cis unicorn in my friend group.” 

“That must be rough.” 

“You have no idea,” Dean says, grinning. “‘Cis scum’ this and ‘cis scum’ that. Can’t get a break.” 

“My thoughts are with you during this difficult time.” 

“You’re such an asshole,” Dean says, delighted when Cas’s smile grows. 

They take advantage of the mini-bar and then somehow the night becomes a teenage sleepover where they talk in the dark until way too late. Post-shower, Cas smells like a thunderstorm rolling in, like the way the air goes still right before a tornado forms, and Dean has to resist the urge to bury himself in it. He wants to tell Cas that there’s nothing in his scent that says _not-omega,_ but he doesn’t know how to phrase it without sounding like a jackass. 

Sleeping Dean isn’t as good at denying himself as waking Dean is, so when the dawn streams through the curtains to say hello, Dean finds himself draped over Cas’s chest, face pressed against the scent gland just under his jaw. 

Dean takes a deep, slow breath, humming in contentment, before he fully realizes where he is and who he’s wrapped around. 

Cas hums back, turning his head to nuzzle into Dean’s hair before he goes tense underneath him. 

“Good morning,” Cas says, even rougher than usual. 

“Sorry about…” Dean gestures vaguely between them as he pulls away. 

“I understand,” Cas says. “It’s instinctual.” 

Dean rolls his eyes. “Dude, not everything is biology. Sometimes people just like each other.” 

Cas’s mouth opens, then shuts again. Dean flushes pink but doesn’t take it back, and finally Cas says, “You like me?” 

“Not that it makes it ok to molest you in your sleep but — yeah, guess the cat’s outta the bag with that one.” 

Cas’s smile is morning-slow. “We don’t have to get up yet, do we?” 

“Nah, we’ve got time.” 

Cas opens his arm and says, “Lay down then.” 

Tentatively, Dean settles back down with his head on Cas’s shoulder, Cas’s arm curling around his middle. Cas presses his face back into Dean’s hair and says, “I like your scent.” 

“Just my scent?” Dean teases. Cas’s stomach is firm under Dean’s arm and he imagines putting his mouth over it and then lower, finding out what Cas tastes like under his clothes. 

“All of you,” Cas says, soft like a confession. 

Dean tilts his head up. Their mouths are close, enough that Dean can see the faintest white line of a scar just over Cas’s top lip. Just as Cas starts to close the distance between them, Dean’s alarm begins its morning shrieking. 

“Jesus Christ,” Dean says, scrambling backwards to turn it off. He gives Cas a sheepish smile. “Sorry. Not as much time as I thought, apparently.” 

“Apparently.” Cas sits up and stretches his arms over his head. Dean’s mouth goes dry at the enticing flex of his upper arms and shoulders, but he turns away quickly, dragging himself to the en suite. 

Toothbrush in his mouth, Dean wonders if the almost-kiss was just the kind of moment that accidentally happens when everything is hushed and soft in the early morning or if a second chance will come around. He lets himself hope. 

Their panel runs long — after a long day attending talks themselves — and they walk back to the hotel in rigid silence, Dean’s jaw clenched. Cas is tense next to him, too, and Dean feels like an asshole for telling him it will be fun. _Easy as pie,_ Dean had said. 

The hotel elevator is full, mostly stinking alphas, and Dean holds his breath as long as he can on the way up. He’s pretty sure Cas is doing the same next to him. 

As soon as they escape, without even bothering to keep his voice down, Dean says, “Isn’t it fucked up that omegas are expected to cover up our scent so alphas don’t lose control but _they_ get to reek it up?” 

Cas gives him a tired smile. “Yes, it is.” 

In their room, Dean collapses face-first into the bed. The scent-neutralizing detergent used on the comforter helps clear the stench out of his nose. 

He feels the bed dip as Cas sits next to him, and then asks, “Is it always like that?” 

“No,” Dean says, muffled in the bedding. “I can’t believe they let those misomegist pieces of shit get away with those questions.” 

The first one wasn’t even a question. “It must be difficult to work in a technology field when omegas are empirically proven to be worse in STEM subjects. I’m sure it’s discouraging to know your options for advancement are limited by your gender.”

It’s probably for the best that another panelist was quicker to the mic than Dean and Cas, or Dean may never be invited to speak publicly again. “I’m not sure if you’ve heard of Bela Talbot,” the other panelist said, knowing very well that all of them had, “but she’s an omega who will achieve the first commercial manned space flight while Elon Musk is still trying to keep his rockets from exploding at launch.”

Cas took a deep breath and said, “Your assertion that omegas are ‘empirically proven’ to be worse than alphas at anything is blatantly false. The glass ceiling stopping omegas and women of all secondary genders from advancing in STEM fields is not based on our biology but on misomegy and misogyny. Your bigotry is showing.” 

Dean fell a little more in love with him in that moment, and was too busy staring at Cas to even hear the next question. Luckily it was a softball from another omega and Dean caught up by the time he was expected to speak. 

“You were amazing though,” Dean says. 

“Thank you,” Cas says. “I wasn’t sure how angry I was allowed to be.” 

“Well, you know. Omegas are over-emotional.” Dean turns his head so Cas can see his grin. “I like when you get feisty.” 

“I know that I’ve been very privileged.” 

“Dude, you feeling guilty isn’t helping anyone,” Dean says, reaching out to poke Cas in the side. 

Cas smiles. “Do you mind if we eat in tonight?” 

“I can grab us something from that taco truck across the street.” 

“That would be wonderful.” 

“In a little bit.” 

“Yes,” Cas says, laying back on the bed, shoulder-to-shoulder with Dean. “In a little bit.” 

They eat tacos sitting on the floor of their hotel room, sharing chips and guac and bickering over which Discworld books are best. Cas loves Tiffany Aching — _Dean, you can’t possibly tell me you don’t love a bad-ass omega witch_ — and the one with the talking cat, but Dean refuses to concede on the brilliance of _Mort._

After tacos, Dean pulls out a goody bag of tequila, limes, salt, and shot glasses. Looking at the spread, Cas says, “I never remember the order of this process. I like my drinks less complicated.” 

Dean rolls his eyes. “Lick, swallow, suck. Let me demonstrate.” 

Dean licks salt off the back of his hand, tosses back the shot, and then sinks his teeth into a lime. The gold tequila sits warm in his belly and the lime sits sour on his tongue. 

Cas is watching a little more intently than necessary. He licks, swallows, and sucks next, grimacing. 

“Not a tequila fan?” Dean says, grinning.

“Not a lime fan,” Cas replies. 

“Skip the lime then.” 

Dean pours salt on his hand for another shot, but Cas grabs his wrist before he can lick it away. “Can I?” 

Dean blinks. Licks his lips. Nods. 

Cas brings Dean’s hand up to his mouth and runs his tongue slowly over the salt. He lingers, tilting his head almost like he wants to rub his cheek over Dean’s knuckles to leave a scentmark, but in the end he lets go of Dean’s hand to take his gulp of tequila. He doesn’t bother with the lime. 

“My turn,” Dean says.

Instead of offering up his hand, Cas tilts his head to bare his throat, holding Dean’s gaze as he does it. Dean wants to play it cool, but he knows that the rush of his pleased and _interested_ scent that fills the room gives him away. 

Dean scoots a little closer and leans in, just nuzzling against Cas’s neck at first. He smells incredible, like a yellow-skyed April, and Dean wants to bury himself there forever. Cas makes a soft noise in the back of his throat like he wants Dean there, too. 

Dean runs his nose up Cas’s throat and to the scent gland tucked under his jaw, salt spilled and forgotten on the carpet. Dean barely stops himself from rubbing his cheek there, leaving his own scent behind, if only briefly. 

“You can,” Cas whispers, like he can sense that specific wanting on the air. 

Dean takes a deep, careful breath, then rubs the seven-o’-clock rough of his cheek against Cas’s neck. A low rumble rolls through Cas’s chest, a growl that sounds almost like a purr. Dean answers with a purr of his own that lasts only a few heartbeats, and then he’s nosing along Cas’s jawline towards his mouth. He can feel Cas stop breathing. 

“Say I can kiss you,” Dean murmurs, just a breath away. 

Cas kisses him. His mouth is soft and tastes of woodsmoke and he raises his hand to cradle Dean’s face. There’s a brief pause before the second kiss where Dean can see the small smile on Cas’s face, and then they’re kissing again. Dean parts his lips to welcome Cas’s tongue, and the wet slide sends a shiver down his spine and a flicker of heat in his groin. 

Dean likes kissing, and Cas is a good kisser, so he’s more than content to just make out against the side of the bed for awhile, Cas’s shoulder and neck and cheek warm under Dean’s palm. Cas is the one who slides his hand under Dean’s t-shirt, huge and rough — Dean wants to know all his stories, how an algorithm guy earned his callouses — and leaving shivers in its wake. Dean can smell his own arousal on the air as much as Cas’s and it’s a thrill just like always, someone blooming for him. It’s even better with another omega, though Dean doesn’t generally admit to being anything but a three on both axes of the Kinsey scale. 

“Bed,” Cas says. 

“Bed,” Dean agrees, bad knee cracking as he stumbles to his feet and then falls backwards into the sheets, grinning at a rather disheveled Cas. 

Despite the ruffled hair and pink cheeks, Cas is much smoother as he climbs in after Dean, straddling his hips. Dean tugs at Cas’s shirt and then sits up enough to pull off his own, so the next kiss is bare skin to bare skin. Cas’s mouth is insistent and so is the roll of his hips, hardening cocks pressed together in a slow grind, and then he leaves Dean’s lips to kiss a line straight to his scent gland, hesitating only a moment before he rubs his cheek against Dean’s neck. 

Dean tilts his chin to bare his throat further, a purr starting up in his chest again as Cas kisses across his shoulder. He distantly wonders if Cas wishes he had a purr to share, too, or if his soft growls are as good a replacement for him as they are for Dean, luxurious under an omega’s pleasure. 

“I have a great idea,” Dean says. 

“Mm?” Cas hums, rubbing his cheek and nose and chin on the ball of Dean’s shoulder. 

“Wanna eat you out,” Dean says, burying his fingers in Cas’s outlaw hair. “You like that?” 

“Yes,” Cas says on a shaky exhale. 

“Awesome,” Dean says. “Get off me and take off your pants.” 

Cas rolls his eyes as he sits up, but he does as requested. Dean greedily takes in his hipbones, his thighs, the jut of his cock with the barest swelling at the base. Dean licks his lips and says, “Or…” 

Cas reaches down, not to stoke but to hide himself from Dean’s eyes. Dean squeezes his knee, hoping it’s reassuring, and says, “Ok, then I suggest you flip over.” 

Dean catches sight of Cas’s blush before he turns over onto his hands and knees, presenting himself to Dean. Dean drapes himself over Cas’s back, pressing a kiss to the nape of his neck and then nuzzling at his scent gland. “Hey there, omega,” Dean murmurs, and Cas shudders underneath him. 

Dean takes his time smoothing his hands over Cas’s shoulders and down his back, following with his mouth. Cas is all hard muscle flexing under golden skin, a soft gasp dropping from his lips as Dean kisses the base of his spine. Dean gives Cas’s ass a quick squeeze before pulling back to rid himself of his own sweatpants and boxers before he makes an even bigger mess of them. 

After giving his own cock a loose stroke, Dean squeezes Cas’s ass again before spreading his cheeks to reveal his hole. He likes the way Cas tenses in anticipation just before Dean licks, soft and light, just a taste. 

Cas growl-purrs and Dean smiles through the second lick, giving Cas the full flat of his tongue. By the fifth lick, Cas goes down on his elbows, face buried in the crook of his arm where his moans are muffled. Dean licks him wet and sloppy, until spit starts to drip like slick down the inside of Cas’s thighs. 

With Cas nice and relaxed, Dean eases him open a bit with his thumbs to get deeper. Dean’s cock throbs and he can feel a trickle of slick between his own legs as Cas starts to ride back on his tongue, greedily taking what Dean is giving. 

Slipping just the tip of his thumb in and out of Cas’s hole, Dean says, “I want to make you come. Can you like this?” 

“If you touch me,” Cas says. “Just not — not the knot.” 

“I can do that,” Dean says, sliding a hand around Cas’s hip to grip his cock, hard and leaking. Dean gives himself a moment to feel a little smug before he gets back to work with his mouth, licking and sucking, making a vague attempt to stroke Cas’s cock in the same rhythm. 

Rhythm or not, Cas moans and purrs and thrusts his hips back and forth between Dean’s mouth and his hand, chasing that high, a sheen of sweat across his lower back. “There you go, sweet omega,” Dean murmurs, stroking tighter and slipping his thumb in a little deeper at the same time. 

Cas cries out as he comes, covering Dean’s fist in hot pulses. Dean keeps licking his fluttering hole through it, knowing he’ll be fantasizing forever about the way Cas keens. 

Dean sits back on his heels, giving himself a few strokes while admiring the way Cas is so wet and soft that he could probably take a cock with hardly any effort. Not for the first time, Dean wonders if this is what it feels like to be an alpha — powerful in the way his omega presents to him, the way his omega pants and shivers after he’s accepted pleasure. Dean could sit and stare at him all night. 

Cas takes a deep, shuddering breath, then slowly lays on his back, throwing his arm over his eyes. “Just — just a second.” 

There’s something in Cas’s voice Dean’s not sure he likes, and he reaches out tentatively to touch his thigh. “Did I do something wrong?” 

“No,” Cas says, and now he sounds almost incredulous. Giddy, too, huffing out a laugh. “I haven’t been with anyone since I realized — well, not for a really long time.” He uncovers his face, smiling up at Dean. “Is that what it’s like? Being an omega?” 

“It’s whatever you want it to be, I guess,” Dean says, smiling back. 

“I want it to be like that,” Cas says, and Dean laughs before leaning down for a sweet, lingering kiss. Softly running his thumb across Dean’s cheek, Cas says, “Now, how do I make you feel good?” 

Dean turns his head to nip at the pad of Cas’s thumb. “I would kill for you to finger me.” 

“That’s very serious,” Cas says, grabbing Dean by the hips and flipping him onto his back. Dean squeaks, the scent of his arousal — his _need_ — intensifying. 

Dean tugs Cas down for another kiss as Cas’s hand drifts down Dean’s body, mapping the hard of his sternum and soft of his belly and velvet of his cock. Dean spreads his legs, tossing one knee over Cas’s hip, wanton and shameless. 

Cas takes a moment to roll Dean’s balls in his hand, then reaches lower to where he’s wet and desperate. Cas slides his middle finger in, all at once, and Dean sighs into it as his body opens easily. He’s not going to admit how many times he’s fucked himself with a dildo lately, pretending it was Cas’s fingers or cock. 

“You’re very beautiful,” Cas whispers, and Dean closes his eyes against it, though there’s nothing he can do to stop the flush spreading from his cheeks down to his chest. “I’ve wanted you for so long.” 

“Really?” Dean asks, breathy as a second finger pushes in. 

“Really,” Cas says, and then it’s just the sound of their mouths meeting and Cas’s fingers working in and out of him, the sound of his wetness obscene. Dean’s keyed up enough that just that alone tugs him closer to orgasm. 

Before Dean can beg, Cas gives him a third finger and leans down to rub his cheek on Dean’s chest, just over where his purring originates, murmuring something sweet and worshipful into his skin. 

“Right there, right there,” Dean gasps, back arching as Cas brushes over his prostate, again and again, Dean moaning and riding down on his fingers. 

Cas presses a kiss to his cheek, and then the corner of his mouth, and then they’re kissing for real, and the languid touch of Cas’s tongue sends Dean over the edge, painting his own chest and stomach white with his release. 

Cas watches Dean’s face as he fucks him through it and Dean watches back, eyelashes fluttering as his cock gives a final jerk. Cas’s fingers come out with a wet sound that is less sexy now that the haze of pleasure has mostly abated, but Dean still feels uncomfortably empty without him. 

Cas kisses the round of Dean’s shoulder. Dean’s purrs intensify and he gives Cas a smile, weirdly shy considering what they were just doing. To cover it up, Dean says, “I can’t believe I ended up in the wet spot.” 

Cas laughs. “I guess I’ll have to figure out how to request new bedding.” 

“Ugh, can you imagine working for a hotel? We’re so gross.” 

Cas nods and nuzzles into the crook of Dean’s neck. “That really was amazing, though.” 

“Hell yeah, it was.” 

Dean wakes up with an omega tucked under his chin, bare in his arms. Their scents have merged on the air, Cas’s spinning clouds and Dean’s meadow at dusk, and Dean takes a moment to revel in it, a purr starting to rumble in his chest. It’s been a long time since Dean has marked, and been marked in turn, like this. 

Cas presses closer, a soft growl matching Dean’s purr, and Dean presses a kiss into his hair. “G’morning,” Cas mumbles. 

“Hey, sweetheart,” Dean murmurs back. 

“Please tell me we can just stay in bed all day.” 

“No dice. We’ve got that thing at nine.” 

Cas groans and Dean thinks it’s kind of adorable, this petulant morning Cas. 

“We can do whatever we want tomorrow before the airport, though.” 

Cas rolls out from under Dean’s arm to stretch, the sheet pooling around his hips as he arches his back. He gives Dean a sly smile when he catches him watching, but Dean just rolls his eyes. 

“Let’s take Monday off,” Cas says. “We can stay in my bed all day.” 

“Mine is memory foam.” 

“Then I guess we’ll stay in _your_ bed all day.” 

Dean pushes himself up on an elbow so he can give Cas a quick kiss and says, “It’s a date.”

**Author's Note:**

> [sharkfish on tumblr](http://sharkfish.tumblr.com)
> 
> [rebloggable tumblr post](https://sharkfish.tumblr.com/post/645835567455698944/south-by-on-ao3-only-one-bed-featuring-trans-omega)
> 
> i'm sorry i'm so terrible at answering comments, but please know that every single one is so precious to me and keeps me going on the rough days. <3 thank you for being here!!


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